


Original Suspicious Bastard

by burntcopper



Series: National Service [3]
Category: Chronicles of Narnia (Movies), Chronicles of Narnia - C. S. Lewis
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-05-29
Updated: 2011-05-29
Packaged: 2017-10-19 22:00:12
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,519
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/205667
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/burntcopper/pseuds/burntcopper
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>You'd think one Pevensie in the military was enough. (post-PC)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Original Suspicious Bastard

Malaya, 1951. The bit that the commando unit currently trudging through it are referring to as 'the arse end'. Doesn't help that the heavens opened an hour ago and drenched them to the skin.

"Raining again," O'Neill sighs. "Join the army, they said. Travel the world, they said. They didn't mention the rain being as bad as Belfast in the spring."

"It's warmer, Paddy," Jones says, wiping his face. "Be fucking thankful."

"I think the mozzies are thankful for the fresh blood," O'Neill replies, slapping his face.

At the next break in the trees, there's a soldier sitting there waiting.

"You lost, mate?" Obtulowicz asks warily. Soldiers on their own, even when they're your lot, aren't a good sign. Especially ones that look like they've been out for an afternoon stroll rather than hiking through bug-infested foreign territory.

The soldier straightens, pulling out some papers. "I was sent ahead with your new intelligence. One of your contacts was killed in a bar fight, and I've got some of his information, as well as new information on the location of a base that might benefit from being wiped out. It's the one you've been tracking for the past couple of weeks." With that, half of the unit roll their eyes. Christ. A sodding spook. All they need.

"Bloody secret service," Obtulowicz mutters, as Jones takes the papers to Captain Pevensie, who's been bringing up the rear. "We're sodding special ops, what do we need their sort for?" He pauses, taking a sip of water from his canteen. "Wouldn't trust him as far as I could throw him."

Pevensie draws level with them and says cheerfully "Wise decision. I certainly wouldn't."

They give him a long mistrustful look. Considering this is Pevensie talking, the original suspicious bastard... Ramsey sighs. "All right, Pevensie, how d'you know him?"

"My younger brother," Pevensie says, and grins, nodding at the spook, who's currently doing his best nonchalant act. "Doing the family name proud."

Ramsey slaps another bug. "The family name being a swear word in most officers' messes. Don't tell me, you knew he was going to be out here."

Pevensie shrugs. "I was as in the dark as you were about this. But if Edmund's here, we've got a bit more of an advantage."

"Yet another savage bastard on our side. Good to know, can always use more of them."

\----

Third day of being lumbered with the secret service agent who tends to merge in with the shadows so you forget he's even there. Complete contrast with his golden older brother. Peter's laughing at something Edmund said as he handed the tea out. O'Neill sips his. "What d'you reckon it is this time?"

"Really fucking obscure," Jones replies. "They were talking about unicorns last night, and I haven't the first idea what that's code for. Griffins and phoenixes I get, they're air support, and I think centaurs and minotaurs are heavy infantry or tanks, but search me when it comes to unicorns."

"Ours not to reason why, gents."

Around lunchtime, they spring an attack on the base Edmund's intel said was there.

Edmund takes point, sneaking up behind the guard and breaking his neck, catching his gun before it has a chance to clatter against anything and alert the men inside of their presence. He lowers him carefully to the ground as Peter goes for the next. Jones exchanges the 'why am I not surprised' gesture and eyeroll with Ramsey at the lad's obvious experience in this kind of thing. Pevensies, designed by nature to be sneaky bastards and efficient killers. Ramsey shrugs back and moves forward on Peter's mark.

\---

Peter shoves his elbow into the CT behind him's face, following through by swinging his hand down to get him in the chest with his knife. Behind him, Edmund smashes his rifle across the face of the one who's just risen from the boxes with his gun trained right on Peter. Peter saw him. Jones could bloody swear he saw him, he looked right at him, then turned his back to go after the CT going for Obtulowicz. Pevensie never fucking does that, he - Jones ducks as Edmund goes for the CT by him, then returns the favour by shooting the one on the far side of the clearing. Edmund nods in thanks, moving through a gap in the fight to come up behind Peter, headbutting one man and slashing another's knee tendon as he does.

"See you're leaving your usual gaps in your defences," Edmund comments as he shoots an attacker in the leg. "Never fails, it's always the same ones."

"I'll work on that some other time," Peter says, ducking a blow aimed at him and rolling, kicking the man's legs out from under him.

\---

When they're sure everyone's dead, aside from the couple they only winged specifically to keep for questioning, Ramsey rubs his face. "Everyone fine?"

Pevensie nods. "Seems so." There's a general chorus of 'ayes' and some grumbling. He cleans off his knife and puts it away. "Ed, you handle the questioning, you know what we need. Plus whatever your lot wants."

Edmund nods, pulling out his canteen and first aid kit from his pack, going to work on bandaging the prisoners' wounds. "Peter, you nearly hit the artery on this one," he grumbles. "We need them alive, not bleeding out in record time."

"You can manage, I've got at least a bit of faith in your battlefield first aid skills," Peter says.

"Spoiled by Lucy," Edmund sighs, turning back to his work. Another thing they'll probably never get an explanation for. That is, if they're talking about the sister that Captain Pevensie's mentioned and not someone else. You never bloody know with him, and once you add his brother to the mix, you've no chance.

Peter moves on to checking everyone for injuries, then joining most of the unit on the usual task of scouting for anything amiss, like hidden reinforcements or untripped wires. They've yet to find a CT base that doesn't have them.

Outside, Jones hisses "Pevensie, have you taken leave of your senses?"

"What?" Peter blinks, poking some of the long grass with his rifle.

"You're willing to let the spook handle the questioning."

Peter nods, as though letting a secret service agent do that delicate job is the natural way of things. Everybody knows they've always got their own agenda, and who knows what they think is important info. "Edmund's better at it than I am. Better at ferreting out odd details, too."

"He may be your brother, but he's still sodding secret service!" Jones scowls.

"Look, if you have a problem with him -" Peter scrubs at his hair, trying to make him understand. "Look, you trust me, right? Trust my judgement, you know I don't trust lightly. I trust Edmund to do this. Not because he's my brother. I wouldn't trust my sister Lucy for this kind of thing, they'd probably end up missing important bits. Like fingers. This is the kind of thing Edmund is damn good at, and far better than the rest of us."

"Fine," Jones sighs. "What about that fighting in there? You were sloppy, leaving gaps you never would normally. You left your entire side open once, turned your back on one you knew was going to shoot - what happened, did you take a blow to the head on the way in?"

"Edmund was there. I knew he'd cover for me," Peter shrugs, as though that's reason enough.

"Taken for granted, what can I say," comes from behind them. They didn't hear him coming. Jones doesn't flinch, because he's used to Pevensie doing it. Edmund might be even quieter. "Peter, did you want names?"

Peter nods. "Might as well, even if they aren't that distinctive - try to get nicknames, they'll be more useful."

"Will do." Edmund disappears back to what he was doing.

"So you trust your brother better than your unit that you've fought alongside for how long?" Jones fumes. "You never sodding do anything remotely that risky with us."

"Jealous, Jonesy?" Peter asks, his voice gone quiet. Captain Peter Pevensie is very rarely quiet unless he's sneaking up on someone. Anyone who's fought alongside him knows that you really learn to dread those times when he goes quiet. Jones swallows, not daring to look at his face, because if it's anywhere near the expression that's been known to occasionally accompany the really quiet tone, he'd be best heading for the hills. "Accept that I know Edmund better and can perfectly anticipate him. And leave it before you really drop yourself in it."

"So that would include fighting like a well-oiled machine in close quarters?" Jones queries, frantically trying to steer the mood back from the dangerous territory to him being just curious, honest. You never, ever want to get Pevensie angry. He's bad enough when he's cheerful.

"It would," Peter says, his tone a little lighter.

Jones forces on a grin, tilting his helmet back. "Do we ever manage to get you drunk or high enough to get where you learned all that?"

"Probably not."

END

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [[podfic] Original Suspicious Bastard](https://archiveofourown.org/works/447816) by [croissantkatie](https://archiveofourown.org/users/croissantkatie/pseuds/croissantkatie)




End file.
